Tangled Vows (Willow Brook Falls #3)

44. Easton

44

EASTON

M y shoulder slammed into the boards, and I nearly lost my grip on my stick as I fought for dominance over the puck. Nashville’s left wing had been on me like stink on shit since the moment I took possession. He was good, but I was better. I managed to get a pass off to Kent, and my opponent took the opportunity to shove off me one last time before pivoting to face my teammate. Kent squared up like he was ready to take a shot, and the defensemen shifted in anticipation. At the last second, he flicked the puck to Weiss who sent it sailing past the goalie’s shoulder, mere millimeters under the crossbar. The goal light flashed red, signaling the winning shot.

My teammates rushed onto the ice as a mixture of cheers and boos echoed amongst the crowd. Several people clapped me on the back, offering praise for my part in our victory. We won three to two in overtime, and everyone around me was celebrating, but all I could think about was getting back to my girl.

The team had been on the road for days. I’d left Shayla cozy and sated in our bed, her cheeks flushed from our morning romp on Monday. Then I packed a bag and boarded a plane. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since. We’d spent the entire weekend after my family left wrapped up in our sheets and each other, aside from the few hours I'd spent at the arena each day. We’d turned a corner in our relationship, and now that she’d finally let me in, I couldn't get enough. I wanted her every second of every day. And she was just as insatiable as me.

Once she realized how utterly obsessed with her I was, all bets were off. I couldn’t believe all the crazy ideas she had in her head about me. But were they really all that crazy? Once she finally let her guard down and recounted our interactions from her perspective, it all started to make sense. I could see why she’d interpreted my words and actions the way she had. And it made me feel like the biggest asshole who’d ever lived.

When we weren’t making love, we talked. She told me more about herself and her family, touching on her parents’ divorce and the way her father treated them through it all. I hated Gerald March even more now than I already had. When she got to the part where she started to have health issues, a pang of sadness mixed with barely repressed rage welled up inside me. Not only had she become the primary caregiver to her mother and their only source of income, but she had developed an autoimmune disorder that required her to take medication for the rest of her life.

And there’d been no one to help her through it—aside from her teenage sister—and the two people who should’ve been there to support her were too busy criticizing her or ignoring her existence all together. Her boyfriend at the time, Calvin, had done nothing but beat her down over gaining a few pounds, and her father couldn’t be bothered to offer even a word of comfort. They were both selfish pricks who didn’t deserve her.

Shayla had been dealt a shitty hand, but despite all that, she was a kind, resilient, successful woman. I was utterly in awe of my new wife. I wanted to keep her forever. But how would I convince her that what started out as a temporary arrangement should become the lifelong commitment we’d vowed to in that Vegas chapel?

“Hello,” someone said, “earth to Walker.” A hand appeared in front of my face, and I blinked away the fog as it slowly waved back and forth. I’d been completely lost in my thoughts as we packed up after the game. I turned to find Kent smirking at me.

“What?” I asked, my voice sounding sluggish even to my own ears.

“Where did you go, man? You were a million miles away.” I couldn’t reveal what I’d been thinking to my teammates, especially the more … intimate parts. It was none of their business.

“I bet I can tell you what he was thinking about,” Maxwell piped up from a few lockers down. “He can’t wait to get home to his smoking hot wife.” He smirked, and there were a few chuckles of agreement as well as some groans from the more mature men in the locker room who were tired of his shit. He’d been making comments like that ever since he found out Shayla and I got married. He had the audacity to gloat about knowing there was something going on between us before everyone else did after the incident in the weight room. Usually, I tried to let his inappropriate remarks roll off my back, but that was getting harder to do, especially now that our marriage suddenly felt much more real. We were connected in a way we hadn’t been previously, and it made his disrespect harder to stomach for the sake of keeping the peace. That stopped now.

“It seems like you spend an awful lot of time thinking about my wife,” I said, taking a step toward him. His smirk faltered. “Maybe you need a reminder that it’s my last name she bears, my ring on her finger, and my bed she warms every night.” His eyes grew wider the closer I got to him, and he backed up until there was nowhere left to go. “She’s my wife, and you’ll do well to remember that. The next time you say something inappropriate about her, you’ll be eating what’s left of your teeth,” I warned, reaching up to flick a finger over the side of his mouth where he was already missing a canine and premolar. He tried not to react, but I caught his subtle flinch. I didn’t typically make a habit of intimidating my teammates or threatening bodily harm, but Maxwell had crossed a line. And I’d do anything for Shayla. She just didn’t know it yet.

I texted Shayla the moment our plane landed. It was late, so she could already be asleep, but just in case she was still up, I wanted her to know I was headed home.

Me: Just landed. I’ll be home soon. I’ve missed having you in my bed.

I hit send and waited to see if she’d respond. To my surprise, my phone beeped with an incoming text minutes later.

Wifey: Glad you guys made it back safely. I won’t be there when you get home.

My breath caught, and my heart stuttered to a halt. For a moment, I worried she’d changed her mind about us, that she got scared and ran. Before I could dial her number in a panic, her next message came through.

Wifey: Mom had treatment today. It hit her hard. She’s really sick and Makenna’s at school, so I’m staying over to keep an eye on her.

Relief washed over me, and the air left my lungs in a rush. She hadn’t left me. She was just taking care of her mom. A pang of guilt over feeling relieved hit me square in the gut. Her mom was sick, so sick in fact, she couldn’t be left alone. I wished there was more that I could do to help her, but aside from setting her up with a leading oncologist for a second opinion—who assured us she was already receiving the appropriate treatment—I was completely helpless to make a difference.

I wanted to call Shayla, to hear her voice and tell her how much I missed her, but I didn’t want to risk waking her mom if she was close by. She’d been having trouble sleeping at night and needed her rest.

Me: Is there anything I can do? I can stop by the supermarket on my way if you need supplies.

There was a twenty-four hour grocery store close by where I could pick up anything she needed from the ginger teas her mom drank to nausea medicine and pain relievers. Though I wasn’t sure anything I found there would be as effective as what the doctor prescribed, it was still worth a shot.

Wifey: No, but thanks for asking. She’s finally resting, so I’m going to turn in for the night.

I bid her goodnight and settled in for the drive back to Willow Brook Falls. It was tempting to crash in the city with one of my teammates since I had to be back at the arena in the morning for practice, but I wanted to be home. If I couldn’t be wrapped around her body, I wanted to at least be surrounded by her scent. Maybe if I could smell her sweet perfume and the fruity scent of her shampoo, I could pretend she was there when I closed my eyes to go to sleep.

Unfortunately, all that did was cause me to wake up with a painful erection. I hugged her pillow close and inhaled deeply, wishing it was her instead. Groaning, I forced myself out of bed and hopped in the shower to take care of business. I stroked my hand up and down my shaft imagining it was her mouth. She’d woken me up Saturday morning with her lips around my cock. I’d been helpless to stop her, not that I wanted to. It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever laid eyes on.

I arrived at the arena thirty minutes early, eager to see my wife before practice. Luckily she was alone when I pushed through her office door. Her gaze snapped up to meet mine, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Easton,” she said, her voice all breathy in the way that made my dick hard. Taking care of myself in the shower this morning did nothing to lessen my need for her. “What are you doing here so early?” she asked, glancing at the clock on her wall. I shut the door and locked it as she stood from her seat. I was across the room in seconds. Before she could utter another word, I cupped her face and slammed my mouth down on hers. My kiss swallowed her gasp, and she melted against me. It had been days since I’d kissed my wife, and now that she was finally in my arms again, all the tension eased from my body. Her close proximity settled the disquiet in my chest that grew the longer we were apart.

I kissed her for long moments before finally pulling back and pressing my forehead to hers. She clung to me, her fingers curling into my sides possessively, desperately.

“I missed you,” I confessed, tangling a hand in her hair. Tugging at the strands, I urged her to tilt her head back and look at me. She swallowed thickly, and her gaze met mine.

“I missed you too,” she admitted honestly, but there was reluctance in her tone as though she still couldn’t believe that this was real. She was still a little hesitant to open up to me about her feelings. As much as she’d revealed this weekend, she skirted around any subject that revolved around us and our future. That was okay. I’d give her time to adjust and come to terms with the fact that she was stuck with me for life now. There was no end to us, no expiration date like there had been before. We had all the time in the world.

“It was torture going to bed alone every night and not feeling your body pressed against mine,” I said, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her closer. My erection pressed into her stomach, and she arched into me. “I could think of nothing other than being inside you and hearing you scream my name while I made you come around my cock.” I slid my hand around the front of her waist to flick open the button on her pants only to find there wasn’t one. I glanced down her body to find a black tailored knee-length skirt hugging her curves. Shocked, I lifted my gaze to hers. I’d made a comment about wanting her to wear a skirt to work for easier access, but she’d brushed me off saying it wasn’t practical attire. It looked like she’d changed her mind.

I let out a heady groan before dropping my hand to her thigh and bunched the fabric in my fist. I tugged it up to her hip and lowered my voice. It came out gravelly when I asked, “Did you wear this for me?” Pink stained her cheeks, and she pulled her lip between her teeth.

“Maybe,” she replied, a mischievous gleam in her eye. She was taunting me.

And I fucking loved it.

“It better be for me,” I warned, yanking the material up to her waist. Dropping my hand from her face, I palmed her ass, groaning when it met her bare flesh, and my finger brushed the string of her thong. “Fuck, baby, you’re killing me,” I said, barely holding on to my control. “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about spreading you out on this desk and fucking you until you forget your name.” A tiny whimper fell from her lips, and that sound spurred me into action.

I ripped her thong down her legs and urged her to lean back on her desk. Her feet lifted off the floor, and I slid the scrap of fabric over her heels. She was bare from the waist down except for the sexy shoes gracing her feet. It was better than any erotic fantasy I’d had where she was the star of the show. And there had been many.

“I’m keeping these,” I declared as I tucked her panties into my pocket. Her eyes flared, and her chest heaved as I gripped my erection through my gray sweatpants. I used to wear them for comfort, but now I wore them to drive her wild. It was insane the number of times I’d caught her staring at me in them, even before we became intimate.

“Open your legs,” I demanded. “I want to see you.” She complied, dropping back onto her elbows and spreading her legs open for me. She was glistening, a sure sign she needed this as badly as I did.

Dropping to my knees in front of her, I parted her with my thumb, rubbing the gathering slickness over her clit. She moaned, and her head fell back. I leaned forward and swiped my tongue over the swollen bud, and her thighs clamped over my head. I chuckled against her and gripped her thighs to hold her in place. Then I feasted. It didn’t take long for her to fall apart, and once I was certain she was sated, I stood and shoved the front of my pants down. This would be fast and hard, and I wanted to make sure she was satisfied before I took my pleasure.

Curling one hand around the back of her neck, I pulled her mouth to mine as I plunged inside her. She gripped me so tight as the aftershocks of her orgasm rippled through her that I knew I wouldn’t last long.

She felt incredible wrapped around me. It had been days since I’d been inside her, and I must’ve forgotten just how good she felt. It was so intense, even better than the first time. When I looked down to watch myself pump in and out of her, I froze. I wasn’t wearing a condom.

“Shit.” The curse fell from my lips on a whisper.

“Why’d you stop?” Shayla asked, lifting her head to look at me. She was practically panting, and her lipstick was smeared from my kiss. She looked so hot I nearly said “fuck it” and kept going. But we always used protection. We’d never discussed the possibility of going without.

“I’m not wearing a condom.” She blinked at me slowly. It took her a moment to register what I’d said, and when she did, she shoved me away. I nearly cried as I slipped out of her warm, inviting body. I stepped back when she hopped down from her desk and shoved her skirt down her thighs. My gut tightened at the distress in her expression.

“You’re on birth control, right?” I asked. The last thing we needed was an unexpected pregnancy. I was still working on winning her over, and I didn’t want her to ever feel obligated to stay with me for the sake of a child. Plus, I wasn’t sure I even wanted children.

Although, the possibility of having a baby with Shayla didn’t sound so bad. Quite the opposite, actually. Just imagining her belly growing with my child had my chest tightening and my stomach fluttering with anticipation. It only took a few seconds for those thoughts to race through my mind as she sputtered her response.

“Of-of course I am.” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and worry flashed in her eyes. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Okay,” I drew out, waiting for her to elaborate. When she failed to say anything else, I asked, “What are you worried about?”

She glanced away, unable to meet my gaze, and a ball of dread settled in my stomach.

“It’s just … well, you…” she began but couldn’t find the right words. She took a deep breath to settle herself before speaking again. “It’s no secret you’ve been with a lot of women,” she said, wringing her hands nervously, her voice laced with hesitancy. “And I don’t know if you’ve always been safe in the past,” she added with a wince, and the reality of what she was grappling with hit me square in the chest.

“I’m clean,” I assured her. I hoped she knew I’d never put her health at risk, but she needed reassurance, and that was what I’d give her. “We all get tested at the beginning of the season. It’s part of our routine physical.” Her brows pinched, and her gaze narrowed on me.

“But you’ve been with other people since the season started,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. It was something I noticed she did when she felt vulnerable.

Confusion washed over me, and I searched my memory. I had been celibate since the moment I’d met her up until last weekend when we finally had sex. There hadn’t been anyone since Jessica Danvers, my former coach’s wife.

Guilt washed over me at that thought, but I shook it away. After all, that decision brought me here, to Shayla. My wife.

“I haven’t,” I said, hating the doubt that flitted in her gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” she ground out, and I drew back, surprised.

“I’m not lying. I haven’t slept with anyone since moving here.”

“I saw you with Mariah Stevenson,” she snapped, moving her hands to her hips. Sassy Shayla was back. I could handle her better than vulnerable Shayla.

The name she mentioned didn’t ring a bell. “Who?” I asked, wracking my brain.

“Ugh,” she said, disgusted. “Have there been so many, you can’t even remember their names?”

“I’ve never slept with anyone named Mariah. I can assure you of that.”

“Let me refresh your memory,” she began, her tone full of snark. I wanted to take her over my knee and spank that supple ass until she begged me to fuck her. “Blonde hair, blue eyes, fake tits, and lip filler.” That described half the women I’d slept with since joining the league. I didn’t say that to her, though. She already looked like she was ready to breathe fire. She continued, undeterred as she pinned me to the spot with her stormy gray gaze. “You were leaving the bar with her the night I ran into you with my friends.”

Flashes from that night played across my memory. It took me a moment to pin down who she was talking about. An image of the leggy blonde I almost went home with rose to the surface. Fuck, Shayla thought I’d slept with her that night. But I hadn’t been able to go through with it. I’d put her in the car, paid the driver, and sent her on her way before heading home. Alone.

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

Shayla scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I saw the way she hung all over you. You were leaving the bar with her on a Friday night. I may not have a lot of experience with one-night stands, but I’m pretty sure that’s how a lot of them start.”

I closed the distance between us, getting into her space. Her eyes grew round, and she leaned back against her desk as I loomed over her.

“I. Didn’t. Sleep. With. Her,” I repeated.

“I don’t believe you,” she proclaimed, but her voice wavered.

“I was going to,” I admitted, and her chin wobbled, “but I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Why?” she asked. Finally, I was getting through to her. I just needed to be honest and lay all my cards on the table.

“Because once I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let another woman touch me.” She sucked in a sharp breath at my admission, but I wasn’t done yet. “I’d gone to that bar looking for a distraction. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” I dipped my head until my lips were almost brushing hers. “It was driving me crazy. I wanted you so bad, but I couldn’t have you.” I slid my hand under her skirt and up her thigh, and her eyes fluttered closed at my touch.

“I thought I could make myself forget about you, that I could fuck you out of my system.” I shook my head, wondering how I could’ve been so dumb. “But the moment I laid eyes on you again, that plan went up in flames. I couldn’t stand the thought of being with anyone who wasn’t you.”

She searched my gaze for any signs of deception. I held her stare, hoping she’d see the truth there.

“I didn’t even leave with her. I ordered her a rideshare and paid them to take her home.” Her eyes fell closed, and her shoulders sagged with relief.

“So,” she began, her voice trembling, “you really didn’t sleep with her?”

“No.”

“And you haven’t been with anyone else since we met?” I shook my head.

“I’ve never been with anyone without protection before either. You’re the first.”

“I-I haven’t been with anyone in a while and never without a condom,” she said.

“So, we’re both clean, and you’re on birth control,” I reiterated, and she nodded. “And we’re married, so there’s really no reason to keep using condoms.” I dragged my hand higher up her leg, slowly lifting her skirt as I spoke.

“None,” she breathed out in agreement, shivering as the material bunched around her waist.

“So, tell me, wife, can I fuck this sweet pussy with no barriers between us?”

“Yes,” she moaned as I slid a finger over her wetness.

“Can I come inside you, or would you rather swallow me down with that pretty mouth?” I asked, rubbing my thumb across her puffy bottom lip.

“Inside me,” she panted, her hips surging forward as my fingers teased her entrance. I pulled them away, and she whimpered, but I was about to give her something better.

I hooked my hands around the backs of her thighs and lifted her onto the desk. Gripping my erection, I rubbed the head over her slit. She writhed beneath me and wrapped her legs around my waist, urging me forward, but I took my time sinking into her, watching as my cock disappeared into her tight channel. I groaned once I was buried to the hilt. She was so hot and tight, I had to take a moment to calm myself so I wouldn’t blow my load within the first few minutes.

Finally, I began to move, and it was every bit as euphoric as the first time. I thrust in and out of her slowly, drawing out her pleasure. My thumb found her clit and rubbed slow circles over it. I was transfixed by the sight of my bare cock disappearing inside her, my dick glistening with her arousal every time I pulled out and plunged back in. Her muscles tightened, and her moans grew louder, alerting me to her impending release.

She covered her mouth as the orgasm ripped through her. The muffled sound and the contractions of her muscles squeezing me like a vice sent me over the edge. I came with a groan, emptying inside her. Spent, I collapsed on top of her, and my lips found hers. I kissed her long and hard, pouring every ounce of emotion into it. I was so gone for her. There was no denying it anymore. I was in love with my wife.

Once I caught my breath, I lifted off her and stared down at the gorgeous woman spread out before me. Her chest heaved, her hair was mussed, and her skin was flushed a pretty shade of pink. My eyes dropped lower, and she tried to squeeze her legs together. With a hand on each thigh, I coaxed her legs apart. She was waxed so I saw everything. I watched, entranced as my cum dripped out of her body. Without thinking, I reached out and captured some with my finger, pushing it back inside her. She gasped and lifted her head off the desk.

“What are you doing?”

“I like seeing you full of my cum,” I confessed, and her eyes flared with heat. Damn, she must’ve liked it too. I leaned down to kiss her again, but the sound of a phone ringing halted me in my tracks. I released a low curse when I realized it was mine. Weiss’s name flashed across my screen, and I noticed the time. I was late for practice. And there was no time to shower. I would just have to practice smelling like sex and my wife’s sweet perfume.